The Hunting
by Nexia
Summary: Crawford has a secret, and Schwarz has a plan. This plan is to end the world. And Crawford's secret involves getting Weiss into the picture.
1. Loony Weather

The Hunting – Chapter 1: Loony Weather

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own the buildings, I don't own the people, or their scarves and jackets and mittens, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own Ritalin, and I have no idea how it is really used. I assume pills. 'Cause I have a friend with ADHD. I don't know what they do for Adult ADD. Please don't sue me for those things I do not own and for misuse of those that I do not own. I intend to fix them up with another twist. I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o It's wasteful to research fanfics, I think.

* * *

It was a cold summer day in Japan when Crawford realized that there was something amiss with his plans. Oh, the plans were going very nicely –summer and spring were completely obliterated from the climate of Japan, thanks to the machines built by those kind scientists who had let Schwarz use their minds. All that was spiffy. And nifty. And the like.  
  
_Well,_ Crawford grinned, _not so much that they actually had a choice.  
_  
No, what was wrong with the plan was that Weiss wasn't there to wreck everything. And, quite frankly, Crawford was rather pissed. Oh, it was true that he was pissed whenever one of his masterful plans had been ruined because of Weiss getting in the way and killing off the faulty power- seeker. No, this time he was pissed because they _had_ to be there to screw everything over, though he knew that they wouldn't succeed. They would never succeed again after this ordeal. But they had to do it nonetheless, so everything would go accordingly.  
  
Crawford called Schuldich into the office. "I need you to do something for me, if this is going to go as we planned it." _As I planned it, rather..._  
  
"Why is it that I'm always the one asked to do the dirty work?" Schuldich asked, sighing in a pseudo-forlorn manner.  
  
Schuldich had been merely addressing himself, but Crawford answered anyway. "You were made for this work. From your body structure, to that mind of yours. I know how much you like these sorts of things." He paused, penting his fingers and leaning back in his chair. "Go to that... disturbing flower shop and find out why Weiss hasn't yet come to the amazing rescue of Japan, alright?"  
  
"Why not just let them stay out of our way? Why don't we just let things go the way they are? Everything's doing fine."  
  
"I always want to laugh when you ask questions." And then Crawford remembered he had not told Schuldich about the entirety of this mission, and also, that he could not assume that Schuldich knew, for nothing could penetrate the mental shields of Brad Crawford. "They have something I require," he stated enigmatically. Best to sort things out before telling.  
  
"And what would _that_ be?" Schuldich ask sweetly, his voice dripping with mockery.  
  
Crawford had heard that coming ages ago and was still at battle with himself over whether or not he should tell the orange-haired German. If Schuldich was informed, he could either be able to do the assignment more effectively or choose to shirk his loyalty and use the information as he pleased. Crawford really didn't like the latter of that idea. If he was not told, things would go somewhat smoothly, and the only downfall would be brought by Schuldich's inane and randomized curiosity, provoked by his ideas of fun, which was also held in account for the former of the previous choice.  
  
Crawford felt the soft brush of another's mind in his. Stress was building in his blood and forcing his shields down. "Stop that," he reproached Schuldich, forcing him out. He knew what the telepath had seen, the battle, that he wanted something. Nothing more. "I can't see the future, Schuldich, until a decision is made. That's just how the space-time continuum works." He swiveled around in his chair. "You will find out what it is I need in due time. Now, get to work, why don't you?"  
  
As Schuldich left, Crawford turned back to the desk and sighed, putting his head in his hands. He knew nothing could be kept a secret for long, not in this anime.

* * *

"Loony weather we're having here, isn't it?" Ken observed as he brought the plants in from outside. "Sure is quiet today. I wonder where the girls are..." He rubbed his chin and turned to Yoji who was reclining back in a chair, with his feet propped up on the table. "Is Omi still working at finding those scientists?"  
  
"What do you think?" Yoji asked lazily, his eyes closed.  
  
Ken wiped his hands on his apron. "God, we don't even know what they did that we have to kill them for. Kritiker's really slacking these days." He paused and sighed. "So I take it... since all this time went by... Omi's in no hurry?"  
  
"Bingo."  
  
_And why not?_ Schuldich thought as he skulked in the shadows of the alleyway next to the Koneko, leaning against the wall to get a better feel for the minds. _No body count, eh? Is that what they want? Well, how can I refuse such a delectable invitation? If it's bodies they want, it's bodies they'll get..._ He was about to jump away into the setting sun when he remembered. Just what was it they had that Crawford wanted so badly? He searched each assassin's mind until only Ran was left. He had to have had it. Here it was, ready for the taking, left in a mortal's mind to curdle and spoil. _Waste not, want not._ Schuldich froze. _What the hell is that? _It appeared to him to be a syringe. _Is that what Crawford wants? Drugs? Poison?_ He was at a loss for thoughts, an ironic moment for a man who had other people's thoughts floating and colliding in his head.  
  
It began to snow, a truly strange sight for the middle of June. "Stupid loony weather," he muttered to himself, still partially lost in the minds of Weiss –he wouldn't have said loony otherwise– and decided to walk back home instead of jumping. Eventually, he got bored and stopped at a tavern for a drink, and then four shots to follow.  
  
When he returned, he went straight to the room where Nagi and Farfarello both happened to be, upon coincidence. "We have work tonight," he said, his eyes glinting with malintent, as well as drunkenness, and breath smelling of whiskey and vodka. "We need dead bodies. And a lot won't hurt."

* * *

Farfarello was busy at work, lacerating innocent people and leaving them at the scientists' labs, at their doorsteps, but beyond that. Schuldich was busy committing suicides over the drab weather. Nagi was busy burying people in the snow that had accumulated over the last few hours. There were actually several lots of dead bodies when they were finished. The group seemed to have gotten a bit carried away.  
  
"That oughta get Weiss in the game a little sooner," Schuldich commented.  
  
The three Schwarz stood atop a building in such a delightfully ominous manner. Nagi was, however, shivering, jealous at how Farfarello could feel nothing, and at how Schuldich seemed to be able to keep his composure anywhere. He glared at the both of them from behind. The people below didn't seem to see them. In fact, nearly the entire city was closed down. The only people on the streets were either homeless, or bundled to their noses.  
  
Schuldich laughed at them all, a maniacal cackle of impending and inevitable doom –something between a rabid squirrel on crack, and a bunny with fangs; either way, doesn't leave too much room for margin in imagining. He knew no one would escape, and those that did, would find themselves killed in another country. "Bundling your asses won't save you! It won't save Japan, won't save the world! The weather will just get worse and worse until every one of you are dead!"

* * *

Schuldich came back with the other two assassins in tow. "We're baaack, Crawford!" he announced cheerily. Dead bodies always made him feel better about himself. There was no answer and Schuldich decided the seer must still be working in the office. He went to go get him.  
  
It turned out that he was right and so asked Crawford what was up, which was received by a finger in the air. Which finger that was will be imagined.  
  
"Report," Crawford commanded. He didn't look at the German. He only continued typing, working, weaving plans. After all, they were free of Esset now.  
  
"Weiss wouldn't speed things up unless they knew people were in danger. So, let's just say there are a lot less people to put in danger now."  
  
There was a thoughtful silence, and then, "Specify."  
  
Schuldich sighed; he grew weary of one-worded answers. "Farfarello pitted the blame on the scientists for murders, I took care of some suicides, and Nagi was the natural deathage. Buried some hundreds in avalanches." When he received another sullen silence, he grew bold and asked, "So... why do you want that syringe from Abyssinian?" There was another interlude. "Are they... drugs?"  
  
"No," Crawford answered.  
  
"Poison?"  
  
"No."  
  
Nothing was said between the two of them for some time. Tension built. Schuldich was sure that was what Crawford intended. "Well, what is it then?" Schuldich asked, not bothering to mask his agitation.  
  
"You seem pretty good at finding out for yourself."  
  
With that, Schuldich just stalked out of the room and headed back to the Koneko. He was angry, and didn't realize that that was Crawford's work, looming the present and future to his will, with but warnings and subliminal hints. He said what his pawn needed only to hear. The King of demons. And Schuldich was a demon. This time, it would be just a little more personal than the last trip, a little more intimate.

* * *

Schuldich had Fujimiya pinned to the wall. "What's with this syringe Crawford wants?" he demanded, probing into the assassin's mind. There was only confusion and madness in there.  
  
"I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself? I don't know why he would want my medicine!!" Ran would have spat at Schuldich, if only he weren't dropped right to the floor.  
  
Schuldich turned and rubbed his chin. "What kind of medicine is it?" he asked.  
  
"It's... it's... Hey! Why can't you just find out for yourself?" With that, he whipped out his sword from nowhere, like he tends to do from time to time, and jumped at Schuldich who seemed to teleport across the room.  
  
Schuldich didn't chuckle. No, he was almost bursting his sides from laughing. "It's Ritalin?" He laughed. "You can't swallow pills, so they give you shots to inject yourself with!" He laughed even harder. "You have Adult ADD!" He stopped laughing. "I know that that's a very serious condition, but," he began laughing again, "an assassin with it! And not just any assassin, it's got to be Ran Fujimiya, of Weiss! It's just so funny!" He sobered again, becoming so very suddenly thoughtful. _But... why... why would Crawford want Ritalin? There's something odd... about Abyssinian's mind... Perhaps it's the drugs..._  
  
Ran had stood for this long enough. He threw his sword at Schuldich and ran to his room to cry. It wasn't like he could help what happened to him. It wasn't like he could help what kind of medication his doctor gave him for his depression. He needed to focus sometimes too, just like everybody else.  
  
Schuldich was gone when he next emerged, his face dry and emotionless. He knew enough to take this encounter and keep it filed away in his mind for the future. Somehow... their mission was dealing with Schwarz, as they did more often these days.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	2. Assassin Blood

The Hunting – Chapter 2: Assassin Blood 

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own the buildings, I don't own the people, or their scarves and jackets and mittens, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own Omi's shoes, or the tracers, or his socks, or his computer... I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o

* * *

Brad was in the office still, not working. He thought for a second that he was going crazy, shaking, and hearing voices. But then he knew what was happening to him, what will happen to him, and what would happen to him if he stayed. He checked his watch, and it was already dark out by now. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He grabbed his jacket, and walked out. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to the Koneko. The snow was too much for driving. He hated that about the winter weather.  
  
He was impatient. It had been two weeks since Schuldich reported on his kills. Weiss had done near to nothing in response. They must have been too wary of the mass killing in one night. Schuldich should have been born with at least one shred of common sense when it came to taking lives. People get suspicious of such a massive death toll in one night, in barely a few hours. It wasn't five in one night, no, it was almost hundreds. And Schuldich hadn't had the sense enough to pace the killing.  
  
Crawford blamed himself, for the assassin's misjudgment. Who else could he blame but the boy's parents? No, he was the telepath's boss, to put it bluntly, and he should have given orders to report immediately. He should have done what he always had done. But maybe he would have if he weren't in this shape... Crawford shrugged some snow off his jacket and decided that all was already said and done and nothing could be done about it. It wasn't like it was the end of the wor—. Crawford grinned.  
  
The plans hadn't completely gone down the toilet quite yet. He was just going to let Schuldich go ahead and think that he wanted Abyssinian's drugs. That would at least keep him occupied for some time until he got what he wanted. I mean, who's going to miss an assassin anyway? If he just worked fast enough...  
  
He waited until darkness tainted the windows to make his move. It was a perfectly stealthy entrance, and most of them were asleep. Crawford walked in as if he owned the place. He knew where everything was going to be. It was laid out for him in a small clay model in his brain.  
  
The faint glow of a computer screen flooded the main room of the downstairs, and the clack clack of the keyboard told him that the young one was working. He stood behind the boy and waited until his reflection showed in the screen or a flash his glasses made, forced the boy to turn and gasp. It didn't matter which.  
  
Omi turned and gasp when he saw the looming shape behind him in the screen of his computer, a flash of light, light from the glasses. But that's as far as he got. He'd let in a breath of air, preparing to yell for help. Crawford grabbed the young assassin's face, closing the mouth, wrenching him out of his seat. The muffled struggles remained unheard, and Omi was gone long before morning arrived in the winter wonderland.

* * *

Ken's screams filled the building as morning tumbled into the windows and he other assassins tumbled out of their beds.  
  
"What's wrong, Ken?" Yoji asked, hurrying into the room, only half dressed. Alarm painted his face and saturated his eyes, along with the sleepiness from the nights before. It's always a long night.  
  
A sniffle emerged from somewhere on the couch, and Yoji had to look around before he realized it was from Ken's mouth. "I can't beat this new soccer game," he conceded, and then three his controller to the floor. Then, with a choked sound of despair, he buried his head in the pillows and attempted to bring forth his own tears.  
  
"Oi." The voice imposed the two heads to look up. Ran stood in the doorway. "Omi's missing." The words hung in the air and no one seemed to have believed they heard it right.  
  
"What?" Yoji asked and inclined his ear to Ran a little more.  
  
"Omi's not here."  
  
Ken's eyes shook. "I don't..."  
  
"W... How do you... know he's not just out, or something, Ran?" Yoji asked, his head down, and his yes focused on a piece of lint floating through their room, through space. "He could just be out with friends, or something."  
  
"He wouldn't abandon his work station." Aya's argument was ended. "He wouldn't do that with all the recent deaths." A silence fell over the room, as he held something up from behind his back. "And I found these." It was a pair of Omi's shoes, with the socks stuffed inside them. "He couldn't've left without them. It's too cold outside right now. It was even colder last night. If he did, of course, leave of his own free will, he would have gotten frostbitten feet, and would probably be dying."  
  
"You're... saying that he was kidnapped," Yoji sat down.  
  
"I don't want to be, if it helps any."  
  
Ken stood up and declared, "We should save him! He could be in trouble!"  
  
Ran shook his head. "Every bone in my body wants to bet that Schwarz did this. We can't... go up against them without help. We don't know where they are. I'm sure they want something from us—."  
  
"How are you so sure?" Ken demanded.  
  
"One of them was here... Schuldich... a while ago... He wanted to know what it was that Crawford wanted from me... He assumed it was..." He looked up and met the others' eyes. "He assumed it was my... medication."  
  
"Medication?" Puzzlement settled over the both of them, and Yoji was the one who voiced it. "Are you sick?"  
  
Ran didn't answer him. "Anyway, reach into your right pockets, both of you." They did and were surprised at the little bits of metal and circuitry they found. "Omi and I decided to do this after Aya-chan had been kidnapped," he explained. "That's why I insist on doing the laundry. There's one in all of your clothes. Why you were too stupid to realize they were there, I'll never know, but there they are."  
  
"So..." Hope filled Yoji's eyes. "We can still find him!"  
  
Ran shook his head and picked something out of Omi's shoe. It was the tracer. The silence that followed was a deafening roar so that none of them heard the screaming and crying of the girls in the shop, feeling forlorn and upset over their favorite boys missing in action.

* * *

"What are you going to do with me?" Omi asked impassively, tied up and lying sideways on the floor of a basement. He didn't feel weak, but he didn't feel strong. There was nothing he could do. He was at the whims of a ruthless killer. He had to bite his lip. He was a killer, himself, and he knew it, and couldn't deny it.  
  
"Isn't it funny how that's almost always the first question a prisoner asks?" Crawford commented. "I only need you to stay quiet and alive, and I need you to not let your mind known to Schuldich."  
  
"How... Why... How do I do that?" He bit his lip again. How could he even think of going along with his captor? He would've kicked himself, if his feet weren't tied as well. He would've kicked himself if he wasn't hogtied too.  
  
"Oh, mental shields are simple enough. First, try not to think. Try to imagine a brick wall, only it's not there, you see. You can't think at all, Bombay, because your life depends on it, right now."  
  
"Schuldich will kill me if he finds me...?"  
  
"No, I will."  
  
And that was that. The words were final. As Crawford's footsteps left the room and faded away in the hall, Omi turned his brain off, and even refused to sleep. Staring at the darkness was the only thing that would keep him safe. For now, at the least...

* * *

Omi wasn't sure what time it was when someone stepped in and told him it was okay to think again, for some time, until he was told to stop again. He closed his eyes and let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. It was Crawford, and for some reason, he felt relieved. "When am I free to leave?" he asked, and his voice croaked. He realized he was thirsty and hungry.  
  
"You are not," Crawford replied and shoved a bowl of food in his face and a saucer of water. "I'll come back for you when you're done. I have somewhere to take you so that you may think." He paused and said something under his breath. "I don't like this..." was what Omi figured he'd said.  
  
Omi stared at the food and drink before him. "I... can't." He coughed and then indicated at his bondages that being hogtied generally incapacitated him of consuming foods and liquids.  
  
"Oh," Crawford said absently, and then left.  
  
Omi figured that the man didn't know what he meant. He sighed and scooted as best he could over to the plate and bowls. He stared at it for some time, anticipating poison of some sort. "He needs me," he assured himself, but he truthfully didn't know. His stomach lurched with the absence of food. He craned his neck and stretched out his tongue, taking some of the food in. He smacked his lips. Porridge, with brown sugar. Not bad. It had been a while since he had porridge. He lapped it up slowly, leaving more than half when he moved to the water. He lapped up even less of that as well, when he decided his tongue was too tired to do any more.  
  
He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

When he awoke, he was untied, and a new set of food lay beside him. He sat up, but then lied back down at the protest of his muscles. Every part of him was sore. He was even more hungry than before. And he gagged, his stomach craving food. He turned his head this way and that and saw a new bowl and saucer waiting for him. Or maybe it was the light...  
  
He ate greedily and drank as well. He sighed again, and lied down. He now could notice how the ground he was on was different than the other, when he was tied, and that there was a very small window on the left wall, where it met the ceiling, it was barely big enough for a cat to crawl through. He realized it was nighttime, and was still being held hostage.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. Slipping

The Hunting – Chapter 3: Slipping[1]  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own the buildings, I don't own the people, or their scarves and jackets and mittens, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own dead men, I don't own watering cans, I don't own skirts[2], I don't own beer, I don't own locks, I don't own wooden crates, I don't own blankets, I don't even own my word processor, I sure as heck don't own the computer. I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o

* * *

Crawford's feet led him into the night. He wasted two homeless people before going ahead to the Koneko. Sneaking in was even easier. Though he knew, he was surprised that no one was awake, waiting for him. He was surprised they haven't caught on yet, that he was going to keep coming like this.  
  
The one he'd come for was sleeping on the couch, very soundly. The TV was on and the remote was barely resting in his hand. Crawford clamped a cupped hand, holding a rag soaked with a sort of sedation, over Ken's mouth, just in case. He wasn't as fun as the young one had been. A struggle when kidnapping someone was always the most interesting part. The rest of the kidnapping was pure work –making sure the victims were kept hidden and fed, making sure they didn't die before they were supposed to.  
  
He had a hell of a time trying to get this one on over to the hiding place. The body was limp and heavy. The other one had been younger and light. This body had more muscle, heavier than fat, and snored every once in awhile, which proved to be very irritating to the kidnapper. Crawford made a point to pay some person for help to carry the body while he picked up some more food for his prisoners. He also made a point to get rid of the man who'd helped him, and take his money back –and then the rest of his money in his wallet, and the credit cards. _No, better not...  
_  
The man may still have family living, and they could track Crawford down through the spending. That would ruin everything, if he were caught. Even more so than if Weiss actually managed to attempt to persevere. He put the credit cards back, but stuffed the money into his pockets, and then made a point to bury the body in the snow, which was something he liked about winter.

* * *

It wasn't quite morning when Omi woke up shivering. Snow was beginning to drift in, and he was cold. He felt his bones rattle and crack as he pulled his legs closer for warmth. Again, cramped pains shot throughout them.  
  
He dozed, never able to fully succumb to sleep. He was hungry again, but very tired as well. He didn't know which priority to satiate first, but eventually he slept. There was no food for him to at yet, anyway.  
  
He awoke shivering violently once again when the door opened and someone walked in. The someone dropped something heavy on the floor, and then set out three dishes. The door closed once more, and Omi forced himself up to crawl to the food. He felt desperately weak. Halfway through the bowl of porridge, Omi saw that the something dropped was in fact a person. He paused in his eating long enough to lean in and see that the body belonged to Ken. He nearly tripped over himself in trying to get closer to wake his friend.  
  
Ken slept soundly and peacefully, dreaming of winning soccer championships, dreaming of never having been an assassin, dreaming of being free and having fun while doing it. He smiled in his sleep, amidst the cold.  
  
Omi sighed and pushed the one and a half food dishes and the one water dish, after taking one gulp for himself, closer to Ken. H would want it when he awoke, and they would have to consume it sparingly if this was all they would be given, between the two of them.  
  
He lied down near Ken for the bodily warmth, and slept heavily.

* * *

Schuldich stomped out and into the summer morning's winter. Crawford was as good as missing, and he was bored. He went straight to find Weiss. _They must know where he is_, he thought, sometimes twice, or three times, as he walked.  
  
He heard some screaming nearby, and could only pick up little coherency and much confusion, as well as revulsion. He sensed someone turning to vomit. He figured this was some of Farfarello's handiwork, and went to see just to see how it was holding up.  
  
There was a body half-buried, face down, in the bloodied snow. One ivory arm poked out, and the dead man's back still held the heavy coat, although it was torn. Schuldich stood back as the man was dug up. A woman held him, rocking and crying in the snow. Schuldich nearly fell over. The blood on the man appeared to be his own, but it couldn't be seen where it had come from, not even when he ventured a closer look, invading the woman's inner eye. What he saw made him tilt his head. He saw three –no, two tiny puncture marks on his throat. The woman was on the verge of passing out.  
  
He left her mind and walked away. Every sense in his body told him something was seriously wrong, far beyond the climate change and the lives Schwarz had disposed of so recently. Could there be something else loose in the city? Some psycho who gets a kick out of pretending he was a servant of the devil? He deemed that likely, more likely, that is, than the existence of vampires.  
  
He made it to the little flower shop and stepped inside, to meet the white- faced Ran, and no one else. The shop was empty, besides them. He leaned on the table, and made himself at home. "What's up, kitten?" he asked.  
  
"Now is not a good time, Schwarz." Ran breezed past him, brandishing a water can. "Can't you come back to bother me next month? That would be a lot more convenient, I'm sure."  
  
"If there _is_ a next month." Schuldich honed in on the redhead's mind. "Oh, yes, I see what you mean. Lost your children, have you? Will their parents still pay you for babysitting them thus far?" He froze. "Oh, what is this?"  
  
Ran knew not to answer a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. "It's my mind, asshole. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do." He was walking in what appeared to be circles around Schuldich, fixing this and that.  
  
Schuldich shook his head and clicked his tongue at him. "Medicating worries with work, as always, Abyssinian. Working won't bring your children back. And what's this about _us_ having kidnapped them? Schwarz wouldn't waste their time with such follies." Schuldich paused. "You have no relevant, nor clear reasoning to accuse us with."

Ran stopped what he was doing and shot Schuldich a spiteful glare. "Don't play games with me, Schwarz," he sneered. "Where are you keeping them?"  
  
"I?" Schuldich placed a hand over his chest, gesturing what couldn't be placed at mocking or sincere innocence. "I am not holding your little kitts. They must be playing hide and seek, ne?"  
  
"Oh, you're really trying hard to piss me off, aren't you?"  
  
"Not really," he pointed out. "You seem pissed enough as it is."  
  
There was another glare and sneer. "You can either leave, or tell me where Omi and Ken are!"  
  
Schuldich chose to leave, though he hadn't properly heard the question. He'd left before the sneer was even completed. He added up Ran's thoughts, and then was out of there, putting two and two together, but getting five, and sometimes six. It was not his favorite thing, solving puzzles with Crawford at the center. The evidence was there, but none of it ever solid. It was like trying to solve an algebraic problem and getting another variable as your answer. It always seemed to slip between the fingers before anyone ever knew it was there. He only had to watch the ground he walked on, but then... He would miss other things, like that woman whose skirt just was blown up. Something didn't make sense, all the same.

Schuldich cursed at Crawford's mental shields.  
  
Why would Crawford have taken two assassins when the Ritalin was right there, just waiting to be stolen, not willing to struggle against him, or to attempt an escape? Surely a syringe lacked qualities it required to trick Crawford. Perhaps that's not what Crawford wanted. But it made sense why he would want it, to lower Abyssinian's focus, and therefore show a strong weakness in Weiss. But he wouldn't make the mistake of kidnapping the children, while the drugs are right there, and being _easier_ to take. So what could possibly belong to Weiss that Crawford would want so badly?  
  
He turned and went back to the flower shop. Ran was about to yell at him again about his missing children, and leaving, but Schuldich raised a finger in a scolding manner. "We have things to discuss, Abyssinian. It involves your teammates, and my leader. But, would you first happen to have beer that I may sup upon in this storming of ideas so that we may be able to understand the whole situation better?"

* * *

When Omi next awoke, Ken was still asleep –or possibly again, because when he looked over at the dishes, they were empty. He groaned. That food and water was supposed to last them both. As his eyes drifted still, they fell upon something else. First, a shoe, and then a leg, and then it was Crawford, leering down at him. The man was seated upon a wooden box.  
  
"I was just wondering," he said, "how long will it be until you cry? For I fear I will miss the first teardrop when you realize your fate is sealed, and is wrapped around my little finger. And when you realize that no one can, nor will, rescue either of you. If they try, you will also realize that I will kill them, else take them into captivity as well."  
  
Omi was speechless.  
  
"I won't let you die yet, but you do know that your time is running out, ne?" Crawford was continuing, letting his eyes wander about the room as he spoke. "I can't let the two of you conspire an escape. As long as I keep the other asleep, while the other is awake, I can kill you on schedule."  
  
"There's a..." Omi croaked. His throat was dry. "There's a schedule...? To kill us by?" He couldn't believe his ears. He was actually at the mercy of a madman, with powers. It was obvious he wouldn't be saved.  
  
"Oh, yes, and you needn't worry about a rescue, because I've been to the future, and there's nothing anyone can do to change it. It's just how the space-time continuum works out in the end. Can't change a damned thing."  
  
"Why are you going to..." He coughed. Damn, his throat was dry. "Why are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill Ken too?"  
  
Crawford smiled. "You will all die anyway, but this way, it will be sooner, and not so wasted. Besides, it's a lot more interesting than being frozen to death." He stood. "Speaking of, I brought you some things, so you don't freeze. It would be a shame for you to die before I'm done. It would be such a waste." And with that conversation forever imprinted in Omi's mind, he walked out. The loud click of the lock and then another click of a lock and then another... He lost all hope.  
  
Omi realized all those things that were just said. He let them sink in, and with a choked sob, a single teardrop escaped. He cursed and wiped it away. His eyes had betrayed him...

* * *

To Be Continued...  
  
[1]: Well, I just called it Slipping because I wanted to call it Slipping Puzzles, but that sounded stupid, and then Slipping Tears, but sounded stupid too, and then Slipping Up, but that sounded stupid too. So... Yeah.  
  
[2] I really don't own skirts. I used to, but then our school changed the rule for uniforms. So now I own pants. Lots and lots... of pants... T.T  
  
[A/N] I hope everyone's enjoying it thus far. Please, review!! T.T And hey, if you think you've figured out what's going on, let me know! '


	4. Descending Night

The Hunting – Chapter 4: Night Descending  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own beer, I don't own food, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own water, I don't own pop, I don't own Ritalin, I don't own America, and I don't own snow. I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o

* * *

Ran pushed a beer in front of Schuldich. "Okay," he said, sitting down opposite the telepath, opening a can of pop. "So, have you decided to tell me what you've done with Ken and Omi?"  
  
"_I _personally did nothing, nor did the other two young ones from Schwarz. But," he took a swig from his beer, "I have a theory."  
  
"Oh, holy day! He has a theory," he proclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Ran narrowed his eyes. "Theories won't save them."  
  
"They might." Schuldich shrugged. "Anyway, I think that we oughta pool our information. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you. Maybe more. And definitely before it's too late."  
  
This was one thing Ran caught. "Too late?" He asked. "For what?"  
  
"End of the world, my man. You know, that whole thing. Something similar to a mass revenge, I suppose." He took a long good drink from the bottle, sighed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while Ran waited, semi-patiently for him to speak. "Anyway, I think we both have reason to believe it was Crawford who kidnapped the children. But it's not reason _enough_. It's all... well, circumstantial evidence we're leaning on here."  
  
"You mean to say that you don't know that Crawford took them?" Ran sounded both doubtful and disappointed. "How can you not know? You're a telepath."  
  
"As true as that may be," Schuldich nodded, "Crawford has these shields that keep me out. I don't always know what goes on in his little head. I think... I think he's up to something, and it's not just about your stupid Ritalin, got that?" He pointed a finger at Ran. "I need your help, as much as it pains me to say that."  
  
"My Ritalin's not stupid," Ran muttered. And then, after Schuldich cocked an eyebrow at him, he said, "_You're_ stupid... Stupid."  
  
"If I'm stupid, what does that make you? _Completely_ brainless? Retarded? Help me out, would you? I can't think of anymore names to call you." He waved his beer in the air. "Come on, help."  
  
"Ha! Look who's brainless now!"  
  
"Shut up! _You're_ the one who thought I knew something about your stupid children!"  
  
"They're not stupid either!"  
  
"They're the ones who got themselves kidnapped. Stupid children couldn't fight against an old man!"  
  
"Hey! He's only twenty-seven, according to Omi. And he can see the future. You call that fair? _They're_ not stupid!"  
  
"Yes, they are! They're _all_ stupid!"  
  
"Stop yelling!"  
  
"Okay!"  
  
Ran rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. So why does Crawford want my teammates? And why does he want my Ritalin?"  
  
Schuldich was busy sucking down the last of his beer. And then, "I don't know. Do I look like I know?"  
  
Ran nodded.  
  
"Well, I don't. I was hoping you would get me more beer, wench, and then you could tell me what he wants. I don't know why he wants the children, but that's because I've been led to believe that he wants your damned Ritalin."  
  
"Why do you think that?" He stood and got Schuldich another beer. Best to keep the assassin occupied with the sweet nectar.  
  
"Because you thought it."  
  
Ran stayed where he was and blew up, coming to a realization. "He doesn't want the Ritalin! I was only worried about taking it. I wasn't sure if I'd already had some that afternoon, or not. Besides, I hate shots."  
  
Schuldich banged his head on the table. "We're in deep shit."  
  
Ran looked out the window. "It's night. They're going to be here soon. That shit just got deeper."  
  
Schuldich looked up at him. "Do us both a favor, okay? Don't attempt to be funny, okay? You're not good at it."

* * *

"You're going after Yoji tonight, aren't you?" Ken asked Crawford when he next visited with food. His eyes were on Omi. The little boy was asleep in one corner, wrapped up like a mummy in the tattered blankets.  
  
"Yes." He stood and left.  
  
Outside, the snow was up past his waist. He muttered to himself about his plan, and how he hated weather with a passion burning of the fires from the pits in the bowels of the hottest Hell. He had until the end of the week, and off to America it was, and then Japan would be gone.  
  
There would be no blame on them. It was a perfect plan. Except that he would have to get out of there before he died with the rest of them of the cold, if he wasn't on schedule. He had to cut it pretty damn close. He would come back and recruit the survivors. It was supposed to be fun. That's all it ever was. Fun. World domination was fun. So was destruction.  
  
After all, what would the world have been without chaos? Even in Genesis. In the beginning, there was nothing, and then, begotten of nothing, was chaos. Destruction world start the world anew, with them, the most powerful of mortals, at the top. Though, it wasn't power they were working towards, it was the cleansing of the human race, and satiating of their boredom.  
  
Crawford stepped into the Koneko through the door and immediately cursed. He would have to hurry. They would catch him soon. He had ten minutes, nothing more, nothing less. They would know he was there. Seeing the future did not tell him his fate, it gave him warnings so he could make his own fate, or at least feel like he still had a choice. After all, free will is a gift from God.  
  
He picked out Yoji's room and stepped in. Shocked eyes met him and then the blonde assassin was up, lunging at the intruder. Crawford clamped a hand over his mouth and held it here. Yoji struggled some in his arms, then went limp as a doll.  
  
It took Crawford a moment to realize that a girl was staring up at him in horrification. He took her too. Her blood would be put to waste if left there to freeze or poisoned with a bullet. If she had stayed, she would tell the others who took the beloved assassin. She would throw away his entire plan.  
  
The footsteps were coming, and he knew it. He would have to leave here and now. He pulled open the window, and then, with each body held under an arm, he jumped out, surprised that his muscles didn't protest. It was exhilarating, landing in the snow. He ducked under and dug through the powdery snow with his body, making a frosty getaway beneath the blanket of Mother Nature. Shortly, he grew sore, and he had to find someone to help him. He paid them handsomely when they got to the hiding place.  
  
"Wait here. I'll give you more when I'm finished," he commanded, going on into the room. He dropped the lecherous man to the floor at Hidaka's feet.  
  
"I'm hungry," Ken complained.  
  
"I'll take care of it," Crawford assured him, and then turned. "Give me a few hours. I'll bring food and water." He left. The man he'd paid to wait was shaking of the cold, with the half naked woman in his arms. "Come here," Crawford said.  
  
He killed him, and then the woman, took the riches, and buried them far away, where snow would soon pile up, holding them forever in her icy grip. These were the lucky ones, the ones to die before freezing.

* * *

"Good God!" Ran exclaimed, bursting into the room. "He _jumped_!"  
  
"We still don't know for sure that it was him," Schuldich pointed out as they both looked out the window, eyes on the massive imprint of a man who held two bodies.  
  
"Where did he go? There are no tracks, except for where they landed." Ran was going mad, just a little bit, it seemed, by the frantic sound of his voice. "God! Yoji had a... a..." He was at a loss for the right word.  
  
"A friend?" Schuldich supplied.  
  
"Yes. Yes, a friend. God... He had a friend here."  
  
"And she's gone."  
  
"Yes." A long sigh of regret followed.  
  
"You state the obvious," Schuldich said," and need to be told the obvious," and then he leaned out the window. He jumped from the ledge. "Come on, Fujimiya! It's not so bad down here!" He dug through the snow some. "Hey! A tunnel."  
  
Ran shook his head and jumped out, and then groaned when he landed. "I can't believe that I'm actually working _with_ you, my sworn enemy."  
  
"First of all, I wouldn't say I'm your sworn enemy. Maybe the Takatoris, but it sure as hell is _not_ me. And, second of all, I can't believe I'm _letting _you work for me. Also, I can't believe that I'm not drunk yet." He ducked down and began crawling. "Come along, Abyssinian."  
  
"I'm cold," Ran complained as he crawled behind the German. "And I can't see. It's much too dark."  
  
Schuldich ignored him. "It looks as if they carried both bodies at the same time. One in each arm. Whoever it is, is very, very strong. Probably buff, and probably really hot. I don't think it's Crawford." He stopped, and then cursed and called Ran some very bad names in a few random languages when the redhead ran into the telepath's ass and his own had collided into what felt like really cold brick.  
  
"Why'd you stop?!" Ran yelled at him over and over while taking the verbal abuse. "Why'd you stop?!"  
  
"The damned tunnel _collapsed_, idgit!" Schuldich screamed.  
  
"Well, dig through it!"  
  
"It's solid _ice_. And _you_ have to back out. Now, go, okay? Go!"  
  
"I'm _going_ you... frickin'... tyrant!" Ran was having trouble dealing with calling people bad names.  
  
"Come up with a better name while you're at it, too."

* * *

As he'd promised, Crawford brought more food. "With the three of you, I'm going to have some difficulty keeping you asleep, keeping you from plotting an escape..." He suddenly smiled, a malicious grin placing itself across his face. "I've got an idea," he said to Ken whom was the only one awake, and in turn, greedily consuming the food and water.  
  
He looked up slowly from lapping up the water. "Wh... What... is it?" he asked carefully, wiping his dripping chin.  
  
Crawford savored the puzzlement and fear in Ken's voice. Then, he looked to Ken, not turning his body. "Every one has his day to die," he stated. He bent down and picked up the sleeping boy. "Or rather, night."

He stepped out into the night, and destroyed Omi's soul. Eternal Night descended upon the boy, enslaving him to Her will, gripping him, pulling him into and beyond Death. Into the Holiest of Unholy Nights.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	5. Deadly Dead

The Hunting – Chapter 5: Deadly Dead

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own the buildings, I don't own the people, or their scarves and jackets and mittens, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own liquor of any kind, and I hav no clu who the people on the newscasting are.. I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o Please, don't sue me.

* * *

Swirling nightmares plagued him with their demonic laughter and mad red eyes. He smelled vomit and blood. Visions of torn limbs gripped him, and bloody eyes cradled his limp body. Swirling, swirling, drifting through, gently raping his unconsciousness. Something told him, ordered him, commanded him, with the threat of his life that was no longer his own, that was no longer truly alive. He was to serve the Night. To serve the Nightly Lord. To kill. To kill for Her Nightness. To bring about chaos from order.  
  
Omi awoke at daylight in the Koneko.  
  
"How are you doing?" Ran asked him, looking down.  
  
"How am I here...?" he rasped. His throat felt sore.  
  
"You arrived at our doorstep two nights ago. You've been sleeping for a good one and a half days, sort of..." Ran explained.  
  
"Who was keeping you?" Schuldich demanded, breaking into his mind, forcing a surprise on the boy, so pure, it was an electric jolt down his spine, through his body.  
  
"I..." He knew. He had to know. He racked his brain. He remembered the room, Ken, Yoji, the food, blankets. But where it was, he didn't know. And who was his captor? The captor wasn't there in his mind. _Oh God..._ "I... I... I feel sick," he muttered, and Ran rushed him to the bathroom.  
  
Schuldich stood in the doorway. Being in the mind was as bad as it could get, let alone just being in the room to _hear_ the throwing up. "He doesn't remember who took him." He saw Ran's face, whiter than usual. "What is it?" he asked, feeling the blank mind, and then he knew.  
  
Ran stepped back.  
  
Omi panted, his head bent over the toilet. His eyes glowed very faintly, but they were unmistakably red. The blood he'd been vomiting dripped from his lips.  
  
"What's going on now?" Ran whispered to Schuldich. "What's in his head? What happened to his eyes?"  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm going to run."  
  
They ran. And Omi flew after them. His speed carried him straight after them, and then into a wall. He crashed and burned. Really, he just fell to the floor with a sickening thud, knocked out cold.  
  
"Holy shit," Schuldich breathed.  
  
"Unholy, you mean," Ran said. "I mean, did you fucking _see_ his eyes? They were red, like a devil's."  
  
"Shut up. I saw the damned eyes." He turned to Ran. "We have to get a few things straightened out, first of all. Look, the reason why I'm working with you is because whoever it is, is going to come for you next! And I'm not doing this so I can get killed! You got that, Abyssinian? You got that..." He sighed and sank to the floor, his head in his hands. _I can't believe I'm doing this...I can't believe I'm helping this guy...I can't believe I'm sparing this child..._ "Look, we can't kill him."  
  
"That wasn't even an option," Ran growled.  
  
"We have to let him lead us, somehow... to... whoever did this to him."  
  
"What was done to him?"  
  
"Goddammit! I don't want to believe any of this at all!"  
  
"What was done to him?" Ran repeated through gritted teeth.  
  
Schuldich sighed. "He died."  
  
"What?! What the hell are you talking about? He's still breathing! He could wake up at any moment now!"  
  
"Look, here." Schuldich stood up and grabbed his jacket and pulled on his gloves. "We've _got_ to get out of here. He's gonna wake up and rip our eyes from our sockets. Let's go." He found what seemed to pass as Ran's coat and tossed it to the redhead who put it on and followed him out the door, obedient as a cat –in tow, but ever wary and suspicious.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"A bar. A hotel. Somewhere, anywhere where I can get my hands on booze. Come on!"

* * *

In the hiding place, Yoji was howling. He'd only just woken up that very morning –or at least, he figured it was morning. He was companionless and watched hours before when someone dragged Ken out, kicking and screaming. Ken had told him how Omi wasn't coming back and how Ran would be there soon and how there was nothing anyone can do that will save them.  
  
Yoji cried and rocked back and forth, surrounded by vomit and filth. He almost prayed to be killed as well, to be with his friends in Hell. He wanted to get away from this nightmare. It was surreal. It couldn't be actual. It couldn't be reality. _It won't be long_, he told himself firmly –well, as firm as he could manage.  
  
He cried for Omi, for Ken, for Meiko –his companion of two nights past. He cried for Ran, for all of Japan. He knew that they were all doomed, and that the doom shall come to pass very soon. Crawford told them how nearly all the snow was frozen, and it was only a matter of time. Crawford knew, as Yoji knew, that this extravaganza would not fail. They would all be dead very soon. _Very, very soon._  
  
When he was done crying for all of them, he had no more tears for himself.

* * *

Crawford flipped through channels, and stopped once he found a piece of news that sparked his interest. He set the remote on the coffee table, and crossed his arms, tilting his head.  
  
"There have been record reportings of deaths all over Japan, but mainly centered in one particular city–."  
  
Crawford twitched. He'd heard it coming, but had no idea... He had no idea how to react. It was his city. He grabbed his jacket and looked out the window. Daylight. He cursed. _But the snow..._ He shrugged and left, tunneling through the city, tearing through the solid ice. He'd left the television on. He knew how it went. He can see the future that he's not part of.  
  
"A greater part of the deaths reported have been accidents related to the major climate change, suicides, lacerations, and, worst yet, there appears to be a number of victims murdered by what authorities call a 'vampire- imitation'. The victims were found nearly devoid of their own blood, with it spilled about them in the snow where they all seem to be buried. No wounds were found on the victims, save for the bruises signing a struggle, and the puncture marks on their necks. However, thanks to late forensic discoveries, scientists say that they may be able to identify the killer within the end of the week."  
  
Another newscaster cut in, as Crawford kicked away a slab of ice.  
  
"Isn't it true, Mitsuka-san, that the police recently arrested the suspects responsible for the lacerations?"  
  
"Yes, Bob, that is true, but I believe there are still more they are looking for." Mitsuka would flash a smile at her dwindling, dying audience and say, "Thank you, and good day, Japan."

* * *

The bar was nearly empty when Schuldich and Ran bustled in, faces red with the cold. They nearly collapsed onto the barstools, both breathing heavily. They'd run all the way there.  
  
"Can I help you, boys?" the bartender asked.  
  
"Give me a beer, and leave it in the bottle, and a shot of the hardest shit you've got," Schuldich ordered, slapping a hand onto the bar top. "And he'll take a fuzzy navel." He nodded his head minutely at Ran who stood next to him indignantly.  
  
"Not!" Ran protested. "Bartender, I'll have a Jeiger-bomb."  
  
"We're out of–."  
  
"Fine!" he barked. "Get me Scotch. Neat."  
  
"Wuss," Schuldich muttered out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Stupid. We should have gotten out of there sooner. It's your fault, you know. You were in his head. You should have warned me." His voice was a mere whisper, but filled as far as he could top it with spite and blame.  
  
The bartender placed the three drinks in front of them. Schuldich threw back his shot, and then slammed the shot glass down. They took the other glasses to a table in the back of the bar, where they could be alone and unheard, as long as they kept their voices down.  
  
"Warned you? Hey, I've been doing all the work, okay? If you can't accept that, then we're in trouble." He opened the bottle of beer and drunk deeply.  
  
"Work? What work is in this? We're running around, trying to prove Crawford stole my assassins! And trying to find out where they are! So maybe, you could be just a _little _more helpful, and tell me what the hell happened to Omi!"  
  
Schuldich sighed, "I really don't want to believe what I'm about to tell you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Take a drink," Schuldich ordered him quietly, almost... gently.  
  
Surprisingly, he did, and then was quiet so that Schuldich may continue.  
  
"Bombay is dead. He is alive. His life is... gone, you see. What happened is this. H's a vampire's transformation, so he's not truly a vampire. I really, really do not think that Crawford is responsible for this, but I _do_ think that you have something else on your hands to deal with now."

"Are you telling me that there are such things as vampires?"

"You bet your ass that's what I'm telling you. And now, your little Omi is one too. Well, half of one really. A lot more dangerous, because he can go around in the daytime, and he doesn't require blood. He does his bidding for his master."

"And who's that?"

"Call me crazy, but I think it's the Night."

"The Night? I... don't understand."

"Well, you'll just have to figure it out, won't you?"

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	6. Moaning Fish

The Hunting – Chapter 6: Moaning Fish

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Aint that right?? 

Nothing: You don't own me.

So I don't even own nothing... sweatdrop

* * *

"You know, I can't stand this. I'm going home where I'll be safe from you and your stupid life and your stupid assassin children." Schuldich stood with a strong air of arrogance and pulled on his coat. Patience was not a strong suit of his, and sitting at a bar with Fujimiya, waiting for a vampire servant to kidnap the redhead was_ not_ his idea of fun.  
  
"Wait. You can't just leave me here like this by myself with those maniacs on the street. I'll be killed!" Ran's hand was holding on to Schuldich's sleeve. He quickly withdrew his hand in what appeared to be sheer embarrassment.  
  
Schuldich smirked. "Awww... Is de widdle kiwwer scarwed?" He laughed. "Idiot. What makes you think I care about you, let alone enough to stick around here? I'm bored, and, besides, you won't be killed. You're next, you see, on this vampire's to-do list. You're probably going to be kidnapped before you can manage to get yourself killed. Consider yourself lucky, Abyssinian. It will all be over soon." He put on his gloves and continued smiling. "Mother's going to fix it all soon." He began to walk away, but then turned back. "Oh, hey, why don't you buy? Since I've been holding your hand this whole time, and you would've already been gone, if it weren't for me. Anyways, unlike _you_, I'm going to _need_ my money where _I'm_ going." He turned away yet again, and stopped. "By the way, no matter what happens, if it is Crawford doing this, which it probably isn't, he has to leave on Friday with us. So it will all be over by then, or shortly after, anyways."  
  
"What? Why? Where?" Ran's interrogative abilities kicked in as gears began turning in his head, Schuldich felt the immediate alertness rise in the redhead. Of course, those abilities were dulled by the past couple days' happenings. He wasn't exactly on the top of his form.  
  
"With all do resp–." He scoffed. "Oh, screw respect. It doesn't concern you, Fuijimiya." And then, with a professional swish of his jacket, he was gone.  
  
It was daylight outside, and the snow was very deep for the middle of summer. Though he walked away from the live bait, he realized that he was still interested in the fishing and the fisher as the bar disappeared behind him, slowly; the snow was rather thick. He shrugged and reached out for Omi's mind. _Who are you working for? Let us see..._  
  
He saw a picture of the moon, and while he concluded that the child's master was the Night, he also reflected on how the boy couldn't use words to convey his thoughts. He was clearly reverting to something of a beast. He reached out for Ken, and then, he fell face first into the snow, grazing his head on a sharp piece of ice jutting forward.  
  
He was hit with a wave of panic and nausea. There was anger, sadness, and confusion. So much, that it was making him sick. He sat in the snow, shivering and cussing, unable to free himself from Hidaka's mind –until it went utterly and suddenly blank. Schuldich held his mind firmly, keeping himself from passing out. He stood shakily and almost crawled to the place he called home.  
  
"Where have you been?" He was greeted at the door by Nagi's stern glare and crossed arms. "Farfarello and I have been left unattended for hours at a time while you were gone, gallivanting around with the enemy. He and I did all the work. Well, more me than him because of his ineptitude at holding a pencil and not writing about his kills and how they served his cause against God. So, it's time for you to make your dues." He gestured to a pile of paper work on the table.  
  
Schuldich laughed. "It's going to be over soon. Why work? Why bother?"  
  
"Where have you been?" Nagi repeated, raising his voice. "Other than mingling with those out there who condemn us? Where have you been, exactly? Tell me now."  
  
Schuldich felt a physical grip on his arm, and before he could fly to the wall, he said, "I was just seeing what Crawford was up to, and if Weiss is tied in with his actions."  
  
"You think you're clever, don't you?"  
  
"Actually, yes. That's the idea." That, unfortunately, no matter how Schuldich saw it, was the wrong answer. Schuldich was pressed into the wall in a wrenching force of pain. "Augggghhh!!!" His teeth were gritted and his shout came out as a slightly louder groan than usual. _Why does Nagi have to be so damn strong?  
_  
"You're just lucky that Farfarello isn't free to be doing this. We _aren't_ supposed to be neglected as such. Something... _terrible_ could happen to one or the other of us. Or, maybe, Farfarello could go out and pick on God again, but do a sloppy job on accident, and then we would be found out. An _adult_ is supposed to be here." He paused to let Schuldich regain some of his strength. "Crawford's _gone_. He's not coming back until it's time for us to leave."  
  
"How do _you_ know that?"  
  
"He left the television on when I found he's gone. He used a tunnel to go, which I found collapsed by an ice wall. The news was on the channel he'd left. It was one I'd been watching in my room at the time."  
  
"Yeah? So?"  
  
"_So_ it scared him, okay? Crawford doesn't scare easily, unless he _knows_ he's in trouble, and has to act very, very quickly. The news was talking about those new deaths... The ones that were supposedly imitated by a vampire. They said they are able to catch whoever did it with forensic studies. I'm sure that's what frightened him, so I'm sure he's the one with _those_ skeletons in his closet." He stepped back and turned away as Schuldich fell to the floor. "It is unlike Crawford to not make sure he left the crime scene clean. You need to make sure he isn't caught, you got that? Make the forensic scientists go mad, for all I care. Just as long as you can keep them away long enough for us to go. And see to Farfarello while you're at it. And when you're done, get to work at the mountain on the table, why don't you?"  
  
_You need an adult, my eye._ Schuldich answered him with an affirmative groan as he tried to get up. "I'm so glad that I can be so privileged as to have friends like you. I'd hate to see what my enemies are like." He almost laughed, because he knew. Weiss were a bunch of wussies who didn't know what to do when the end of the world was staring them in the face.  
  
"Just do it!" Nagi yelled, and shot Schuldich down the hall. 

_

* * *

_

Ran cursed when he was left alone in a bar in the middle of the day, with no idea of how to get back while the snow and ice piled up outside. He cursed even more when the bar was empty, and the bartender walked over to him.  
  
"Look, buddy," the bartender said, "I don't care where you go, but you can't stay here. I'm closing up. It's getting more than bad out there. I should've closed up last week, but I need to the money."  
  
Ran cursed again, sighed, then stood. "Alright. But promise me one thing." He slapped the contents of his wallet into the man's hand. "Just get out of here. Get out of Japan. We're all about to die, if you haven't noticed. Me, especially. Money's of no interest here any longer." Before the bartender could say anything, he left, and cursed some more to himself. He finally stopped and sighed as he trudged through the snow, his legs already threatening to grow numb. _I have to get somewhere warm, fast._ He looked round, and saw no sanctuary. He didn't curse. He gave up on trying to string bad words together. He just wasn't good at it.  
  
When he heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of snow and ice behind him, he froze, nearly literally. He didn't turn, but looked over his shoulder, very slowly. Omi was coming up behind him, not wearing more than a t-shirt and shorts. His eyes seemed to spiral with fire and anger.  
  
Ran didn't yell, didn't shout. He just ran for it, as fast as he could heave himself through the snow. He wasn't sure where he was running, through the white canvas, but was forced to be sure when he hit a brick wall at the back of an alley.  
  
He grunted, trying to get footing through the snow, to climb the wall. He slipped and fell back into the snow, his legs growing more unfeeling as each moment passed. It was all he could do to lift himself up and lean against the wall as he watched Omi get closer and closer and closer, and then stop. Ran saw that he had nowhere to go, and was sure that Omi had stopped so he could get a good look at the boy before he was dragged off.  
  
The snow around Omi had melted, and was already beginning to freeze, until he stepped forward, and stopped again. His eyes were of fire, crazed, maniacal. He had blood dripping down from the corner of his lips.  
  
"Omi, I wonder if you can underst –No! –AUU –!!!!" His scream was cut short by sudden blackness after Omi had leapt at him, trailing melted snow at his bare feet.

* * *

Crawford checked into a motel, and planned to leave the next night. Time was quickly running out. And it was precious to him. Seeing through Time, drifting through Time, he knew just how passable it was, and how slippery.

* * *

Farfarello had some trouble tracking down the forensic scientists. He hadn't realized just how many there were these days. There were a lot, he had decided. But he found the ones he was looking for. There were at least three of them on the case. He sighed heavily. Which one was in charge? He could take out that guy...  
  
He panicked. He _could_ take out that guy, but then someone else would show up and take up the case. He would have to distract them long enough until the evidence could be tampered with... Or he could convince the entire company to jump off a cliff. He decided against that, as fun as it would have been. He decided, in the end, to just have the one guy in charge of things lock away the evidence, and swallow the key, quickly followed by his death. _That should buy us some time_, he hoped. If not, he could always go back again and 'fix' things.

* * *

Ran woke up with a headache, pounding with forces of all the Hells. What was more, he was frozen to the bone, and soaked completely through. Already, he could feel the fever coming on. Even worse than all of that, it was nighttime, and he couldn't see a darned thing.  
  
"So," a familiar voice sounded. "You decided to stop wailing and moaning in your dream like a fish caught in too little water?"  
  
"Fish... moan?" were the first words out of his mouth, and he was astonished.  
  
"Quietly, but they do."  
  
"Why... are you... doing this?" His head was throbbing more than he could bear.  
  
"Why is my telepath so bent on the idea that you have Ritalin, and I would want it?"  
  
"Craw...ford?"  
  
A foot jammed into Ran's side. "Answer me!"  
  
The world was about to end, wasn't it? _So, why not? Just tell him._ "It's... not Ritalin... I have to... convince myself that it is... in case something like this ever happened... With my mind read, and all... Your... Schuldich... picked it up in my mind... He just found out that it wasn't what you want."  
  
"I figured as much. What is it, then?"  
  
"It's..." Before he could say anymore, he blacked out again, the pain getting to be too much.

* * *

To Be Continued


	7. Revenge

The Hunting – Chapter 7: Revenge

* * *

Disclaimer: Well, I'm sure that you realize that I don't own Weiss, nor Schwarz, as much as I want to, but if I did, this wouldn't be her, now, would it? No, I did not think so. I own absolutely nothing! Mwahahahaha! Except for ummm well, no, nothing. I own nothing. Except the hiding place. I do own the hiding place! Yes, it took me seven chapters to realize that.

* * *

Yoji woke up to find Ran sleeping next to him. He cried out in a vain attempt to wake the younger man, but he was too deep in sleep. He cried out again when Crawford stepped in, trailing snow and Night at his heels. Yoji knew what things to be terrified of, and this was one of them.

"I think," he said to Yoji, through a surgeon mask, "that it's time I let you go."

Yoji froze, both literally, and figuratively. "Let me... go? You would... do that?" He was shivering violently.

"Oh, yes." Crawford's smirk seemed promising even to him, at this point. "Come along then, Balinese. Let's get you... home." He held the door open, letting the cold tumble in.

Yoji stepped out into the night with Crawford, his blanket held tight around him as he shivered. He barely walked two steps when Crawford nailed him in the back of his head. A voice within, deep, deep within him, told him that he was going to die, and to sit back and watch the show. He saw the movie of his life pulse before his eyes in a matter of seconds before he found himself no more.

* * *

Schuldich decided his work was done for the moment. He looked to Farfarello. The Irishman was sleeping in his upside-down entrapment. He was being punished again. _Why do I have to watch you? _Schuldich wondered. It wasn't like the silver-haired boy could get down on his own.

"What did you do now?" Schuldich asked him, opening the eighteen-year old's mind. He had been out taunting God again. "Why can't you just let Him be? I thought you found out about what really happened to your family." Answers were always difficult to extricate from this one, especially on his own. The thoughts flowed as if in a ball of twine. The owner usually knew what to do on how to find things.

Farfarello woke up. There was very long silence. "Is God in your mind?" he asked after several minutes passed. "Can you talk to Him?"

"I try not to find out."

A single golden eyeball penetrated Schuldich. "If you find Him, will you tell Him something for me?"

Schuldich began to walk about casually, fully aware of the half-gaze following him. He shrugged. "Depends."

"You can tell Him that I don't want to live with Him."

"I'll see what I can do." He didn't want to, really. And so, he wasn't going to.

Farfarello went back to sleep, and Schuldich sat on the floor, against the wall. The situation Japan was in needed analyzing. Everything he'd assumed was wrong. Firstly, the Ritalin had nothing to do with anything. Secondly, Weiss was being harvested for the work of darkness. It was questionable whether or not they would be able to live. Thirdly, it was, indeed, Crawford who was behind it all. The real question was, "Why?" And, "How?" And, "When?" And then, another, "Why?"

Schuldich couldn't remember anytime when it could have happened, Crawford's transformation, and eventually, he bruised his head trying to reach Crawford's mind. He wasn't sure what had happened since the last time he saw his gun-toting business-suit friend. _Well,_ Schuldich thought bitterly, _I really wouldn't consider him a friend. _But saying that Crawford's shields were stronger was a bit of an understatement. Whatever did this to Crawford, Schuldich was sure that there was another person somewhere who was responsible for this. And he knew exactly what to do.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, gradually. And he let the thoughts of the universe flow in and out, granting him privy to each and every one of them –save for Crawford. There _was_ one thing that perked his interest. Before he had the time to pick up on it, he was rudely interrupted by one of those minds. He had trouble staying focused, as he was violated. And then the one mind was cut off forever and ever. It was dead. And Schuldich passed out under the fluctuating energy waves.

* * *

Crawford prodded Ran with his shoe. "Wake up," he muttered angrily. He wasn't exactly patient at the moment. What, with barely more than one day left before they get out of this God-forsakened country, and still much to do. He knew that nothing could –nor would save any one. He had no time to waste on waiting for a spoiled brat of an assassin to wake up. Finally, with a growl, he picked up Ran by the ear-tails. "Fujimiya, your sister is going to die soon."

Not that it had anything to do with what Crawford wanted, but it served its purpose. Ran awoke.  
  
"Uhn...?" he moaned in pain. Crawford dropped his head to the floor and turned away. "Augh–!!" There was silence, and then, "Leave my sister _alone_."  
  
"I have no intention of doing _anything_ to your sister. Nature will take care of that meaningless job for me." He prodded Ran with his shoe again. "Tell me what that syringe is for. It's really bothering me. I'm _quite_ curious."  
  
"It's... it's..." Ran was gasping and had some trouble getting the words past his teeth. Finally, he burst into tears. "I donate my eggs!" he conceded with a wail that rattled even Crawford's brains.  
  
Crawford half-expected this, but not to such extent, so he could not help but be surprised. "Eh... what was that...?"  
  
Ran was sobbing. "I do drugs, okay? I'm a bit delirious right now, if you'll just _excuse _me. My sister is the only on who knew! She kept it a secret so I could be allowed to stay in Weiss after she woke up."1  
  
"You're a... druggie... who thought that he was a woman." Crawford scoffed. "That's really funny. It really is." He paused to smirk and chuckle. "It's just too bad that no one else will be able to laugh about it. Such a shame... I'm sure that even your friends will have riot about it."  
  
Slowly, Ran regained a bit of his wit. He looked around. "Where are my teammates? What did you do to them? Why are you wearing a surgeon's mask? Are you the one everyone's talking about? Are you the vampire? But Schuldich said that you weren't."  
  
Crawford lit a light of some kind, and Ran assumed it was a lantern. The oracle sat on a crate in the far corner, with an ankle resting upon his knee. "Well, Schuldich doesn't know what he's talking about. Anyways, what are you whining about? You're alive, aren't you? For the time being, at least. You were reunited with Bombay, weren't you? Hidaka is out doing... something or other. And Yoji... Well, he's watching you right now. I had to flat-out kill him. He was too scared, and yet, too willing at the same time. That wouldn't do. So he's with his companion now. Or...no... He would be in Hell, correct? Nevermind then. He's not watching you. He's suffering. And, well, this surgeon's mask is made to block those fetid smells about you."  
  
"Why do you want to do this?" Ran wheezed, his lungs felt bruised, and he remembered that Crawford had been kicking him. And the odor in this room was horrible. He retched.  
  
"Revenge. For leaving us to die in that... unfortunate accident way back when. It was the night your sister awoke. Do you remember? What made you think we would've done the same? Don't be so put off by our villainy. We would have taken you out of there."  
  
"Yeah, and then use us in your experiments!" Ran sat up and spat some blood onto the floor. He tasted the saltiness on his tongue. Crawford had kicked him very hard. He looked up and almost thought that he saw Crawford flinch. If he had seen anything at all, it was gone now.  
  
"I believe you're thinking of Schrient. Those silly women are, of course, gone as well. I even personally saw to the extermination of Tot2."  
  
"Is that all you want to say to me?"  
  
"Yes, pretty much. Oh, and you will all die, in the end, of course. If I were you, I would hope to God that there is no afterlife to separate you from any of your damned loved ones because they won't be in Hell with you. Pray for nothing." And he was gone.  
  
Ran swallowed a lump in his throat.  
  
It was then that Ran felt a warm breeze of mental concentration blowing in through his slit of a window. He grappled at it and managed to get a hold of a 'line.' "Schuldich!" he screamed with his now-raspy baritone voice. It was an odd sound in his world, in his ears, in his mind. He felt an odd feeling cover over him like a blanket. It was something of a sense of being two instead of one.  
  
He felt a violent shudder from the other side, and then heard a very loud pop and then a crack. And he passed out.

* * *

Ken didn't know what was happening, things were moving slowly and yet so fast. He was trapped in his mind. It was as if he was seeing from behind his eyes as someone else used his body, moved his body. As someone else killed with his killing hands. He screamed, but heard no sound, despite in his own mind. He could feel this part of him disintegrating, falling away into nothingness. Soon, there would be nothing left of this consciousness, the last remainders of his soul. Soon, there would only be the master, and the servant, heeding every command given.

* * *

It was later that night when Crawford cam back to the hideaway. "Your time is up," he said to Ran, as the young man slept. He picked him up off the dirty and disgusting floor.  
  
_Well_, Crawford thought, _at least I don't have to clean it. Just destroy it._  
  
He carried Ran out into the snow and spilled blood. No transformation was made, only the separation of body from soul. It was simply the taking of a life and banishing of it to Hell. Crawford was no longer in need of these... servants. He felt shamed to have used them. He never needed them. But it was a nice way to scare Weiss. Very nice, indeed.  
  
He waited after that soul was gone for the two bodies to return. They came, stumbling through the snow, nothing more than mindless minions. He dragged the two preserved dead bodies into the hideaway. "Make sure they don't rot," he said. "Give them your life force if you have to." He locked the door. They all deserved to be disposed of the next night.  
  
Crawford went back to his motel room with a grim feeling of self- satisfaction. He would sleep well tonight, for the first time, in a long time.

* * *

To Be Continued . . .

* * *

A/N: 1: Yes, I made Ran be on drugs. At first, I was going to make him a woman, because that would've been funnier, but, also, kind of stupid. No, _really_ stupid. And for those, of you who I told, I'm sorry, but I changed my mind at the last minute, and had to change everything else. -.-'  
  
2: I had to make sure people knew Tot was dead, because in the episode where the rest of Schrient die for the second time, and make you think that Nagi is dead, Tot stood up after she'd been killed. That was kind of annoying, because in the very next episode they're in, Tot isn't there, and Nagi _is_. Actually, it's _very_ annoying. I don't understand half the things Koyasu Takehito does in that show. As much as I love it, there's so much I hate. . 


	8. Almost Gone

Chapter 8: Almost Gone

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Mushroomhead, I don't own the title, Almost Gone, I don't own cereal, I don't own helicopters. I think, hm, let's review; I own nothing except for the hideaway and the machines that change the climate, and the gas can and matches, because they're made by my imaginary company called Spiffy Co. Yes, it took me _eight_ chapters to realize _that _one.

* * *

_"Ashes to ashes. Gas cans and matches Wash it all away."  
–Mushroomhead,__ Almost Gone_

__

* * *

__

Schuldich woke up angry. He was angry that the damned redheaded killer attempted to rape his mind, and succeeded, using one of his _own_ brain waves, leaving so much useless information. Ran had told him where he was and what Crawford was. He wanted Schuldich to _help_ him. This angered Schuldich all the more.  
  
"What makes you think I would've helped you _anyway_?" he screamed to ceiling, knowing that the assassin was now dead, not sure whether the killer was in heaven or Hell. He was sure the answer was Hell. Then again, he wasn't even sure of the afterlife. Briefly, he searched for a God in his mind, and yet, found nothing.  
  
The end was drawing near. He had to pack. He let Farfarello down and retreated to the kitchen, unsure of whether or not he was hungry. The ignoring of a nagging voice in the back of his head occupied him at the moment. He had given up on trying to find out what Crawford was up to. They were leaving that day. The best thing to do was just to go ahead and ask the man.  
  
_And thank him for killing off that annoying red-headed, whining, complaining, weak killer who just gets angry over nothing, and throws his swords at helicopters he knows he can't hit, just to have it fall again, and nearly hit him. It's a good thing he's dead.  
_  
Nagi was waiting for him in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. Schuldich looked at a clock and saw that it was late afternoon –and also that the paperwork was gone.  
  
"You're welcome," Nagi muttered, and then crunch went a spoonful of cereal.  
  
"Yeah, thanks. Whatever." He was preoccupied. "When's that helicopter supposed to come pick us up?"  
  
_Crunch, crunch, crunch –gulp._ "Tonight. About midnight. I figured it was a dramatic time enough to leave. Only take one bag, Schuldich. I don't want to leave a mess behind that looks like we actually left before It actually happened. I'll take care of files and any other kind of evidence. I only trust you to worry about your things. I've got Farfarello all taken care of."  
  
"Right." Schuldich felt a pang of irritation that scolded Nagi on how the boy should think he needs adults. For crying out loud, the telekinetic was an adult. One who treated Schuldich like a _child_. He turned to leave.  
  
"Oh, and Schuldich? Crawford gave me a call last night. He said that he didn't particularly _like_ it when you tried to get through his barriers. He said that it was a waste of your time and energy, and that would just hurt yourself. So, stop, okay?"  
  
Schuldich took some time to let his brain soak it all in. "Okay," he said at length.  
  
"And he said that we should meet him with the helicopter at some... place. We should see it. It's supposed to be on fire."  
  
"And his things?"  
  
"He already sent some of his belongings to his chalet in America. He should be fine, he says."  
  
Schuldich nodded minutely and left the kitchen to his room, his fists clenched. Cold weather made him irritable –and so did taking orders from a fifteen-year old who could smack him against the wall. He knew he could just as well have some fun, but he didn't feel like it. His head hurt, and he was tired. But he was pretty sure that, at this point, everyone was tired.

* * *

It was daylight outside, but Crawford was restless, in his motel room. He couldn't leave, and he couldn't sleep. He was dead tired, and knew that he would need even a little energy tonight. He was worried –to put it frankly. He didn't know if the rest of Schwarz had everything in order.  
  
He hoped that no one had found his hiding place. It was amazing that they hadn't, for the stench coming from that place was so awful, and strong. Crawford was glad that it was far off away enough that no one would have found it that easily. He was just glad that he wouldn't have to clean it.  
  
He still couldn't sleep. He was restless.  
  
The coming of the end, the rebirth of the earth, the closure of his revenge. They were all yet to come. They weren't here yet, and he couldn't wait. He felt like a child on the night before Christmas morning, yet more composed and holding sinister plans within his mind. It was getting to be too much for him to handle.  
  
He got up from his bed, shedding his clothes as he walked, and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower. His skin itched with the spilt blood. He loved it, but he hated the taste. Salty and metallic.

* * *

Ken and Omi's bodies sat patiently, obediently, waiting for their master to return. They didn't seem to mind the two dead bodies behind them as they lent their life energy to them, preserving them, keeping them from rotting. They didn't seem to mind the spilled food and water. They didn't seem to mind the smells of bodily wastes. They didn't seem to mind that they were locked in, and that their feet were well frozen over in ice. They didn't seem to mind that they would be dying very soon. They didn't seem to mind that they were almost gone.

* * *

Schuldich sat on his bed, next to his bag. He'd been able to fit almost everything in it, and he was surprised. Everything was nearly over here, and he hoped that Crawford would give him a chance to at least _try_ to start a new life where they were going next, rather than to plot to destroy it right away.  
  
After this, they wouldn't be suspected, but surely, after the next one, or two, they'll be under close observation. They'll have to us their powers more next time. He shivered. America was _much_ bigger than Japan. They would have to find a way... to spread the destruction wide and far, all across North America. _But... would Crawford really destroy that place? His home?  
_  
Schuldich shook his head. He was just getting cold feet. He was losing his edge. He was just too tired. He flopped back and fell asleep, shoes and all.

* * *

Night arrived sooner than anyone expected it to.  
  
Crawford lifted himself from his bed, unrested and tired. But he felt ready to do his job. He didn't bother to check out. He only left his room and strolled into the twilight, walking atop the frozen snow.  
  
He found one other, wandering. As Crawford passed the young woman, he realized he was thirsty. He whipped his had around and, with a menacing smirk, and a glint in his eyes, he pounced, and killed. Ironic how like a cat he was.  
  
When he finished, he wiped the blood off of his glasses with a patch of the woman's shirt that happened to remain clean, and continued his walk through the night, not even bothering to clean up the mangled corpses he left behind. He walked and walked, until he reached the little shack  
  
He donned his masked and stepped inside the hideaway, his four prizes either lying or sitting in peace. He reached into a crate and pulled out a can of gasoline.

* * *

Schuldich rose from his slumber to find that it was midnight. He thought he knew why Crawford was doing what he was. Revenge was sweet, and forever. It reminded him faintly of a Valentine's Day gift. Schuldich's anger was almost gone.  
  
It was time to go. He grabbed his bag just as Nagi was about to drag him from his room.  
  
"Come on, Schuldich."  
  
He did. He went. He followed Nagi and Farfarello out, to the helicopter waiting in the backyard, kicking up ice with its propellers. They climbed in, and it rose to the polar black sky, a hummingbird taking flight in the night.  
  
Their neighbors watched as they escaped from the impending doom.

* * *

Crawford spread the gasoline over the room, on the walls, on the floor. He was careful to not spill any on himself. He walked out, locked the door, and climbed to the roof, spilling the last of the gasoline onto its surface. He left it there, empty and devoid of its contents. He jumped down, landing on his feet on the ice. He barely slipped. Then, slowly, he stood.

* * *

The helicopter flew toward the location Crawford had given Nagi. "The driver_ is_ under your control, right, Schuldich?" he asked the telepath.  
  
"He's not a driver. He's a pilot, and yes. I have complete control of him. What do you think? I'm stupid?" In fact, Nagi did, even the slightest bit. Schuldich knew this. He felt a pang of deja vu. Did everyone think he was stupid?  
  
Then, they saw the flames, rising out of the perfectly white canvas.  
  
"Don't get too close," Schuldich warned the pilot. "We don't want to diminish the flame of revenge, now, do we?" He always had a respect, if not, a fondness for passion.

* * *

Crawford wiped his brow, knowing the very last drop of gasoline had long escaped from the can. He walked away, as cool as ever in the summer's winter, and flicked the lit match into the mess behind him. In seconds, the flames were blazing, melting the snow around them. The endless subtle ironies made him grin as he watched his sins turn to ash.  
  
Then, he was carried into the air, and away from his past as they flew on to his future, resting in even another, further past. _Done_, he thought, as he clutched the swinging ladder and climbed aboard, _and I'm onto the next one._

They shut the door behind him, and he took one last look at his beautiful work –his masterpiece. His sins were left behind, and turned to dust before his very eyes, to be frozen perpetually in the snow and ice of winter.

--Fin--


End file.
